


A Late Night Wager

by Vermilion_Sunrise



Series: Wicked Westerosi Wagers [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Drinking, F/M, Good Memory, Great night, He'll never remember, How drunk is he?, POV Sansa Stark, Rough Sex, Sexual Pleasure, Sober Shenanigans, Teasing, fun sex, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-06-13 22:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15374571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Sunrise/pseuds/Vermilion_Sunrise
Summary: Westerosi A/U, SanSan: There's a lot to celebrate in Westeros, the Night King has been defeated and Jon is throwing a feast in Winterfell. Intent on keeping Sandor close, Sansa requests he become her Sworn Sword. In the events that follow that evening she will come to realize he has harboured the same feelings for her as she as for him -- and a night of pure sexual plesure will follow. A late night wager made in the throws of passion will give Sansa something to tease her new found lover with.This will be paired with another story called "An Early Morning Wager" which will be from Sandor's point of view. The idea is that the stories stand alone, but are best if read together -- meaning chapter for chapter. I will link them once the other is up too.





	1. Jon's Celebratory Feast

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you have not read "And Early Morning Wager" chapter 1, please do so as it will add more context to the story.

#  Chapter 1: Jon’s Celebratory Feast

 

There were no words to describe Sansa’s joy when Jon and his men came back to Winterfell victorious. The war with the Night King had cost them many lives, brought out the best and worst in man -- and they had survived to see a new world begin. Her heart had jumped when she noticed Sandor Clegane enter the castle, giving her a curt nod as he walked past to tend to his armor and clean himself up. The ride back must have been grueling, but the men’s spirits were high -- they would feast tonight.

 

Pulling Jon aside Sansa had asked a favor of him. He would be heading South with the Dragon Queen, leaving her to keep the North for them. In order to do that, she needed a protector -- she wanted Sandor Clegane by her side. There was no other warrior in Westeros as fierce as he, and no other that made her heart flutter with desire. To her great relief Jon didn’t seem at all surprised by her request, as a matter of fact he had endorsed her decision wholeheartedly saying that Clegane was one of the few men he trusted. She had sent him a sideways glance at this comment so as to divine his true intentions, but he had merely given her a smile and patted her on the shoulder. He too had things to attend to -- they all did.

 

Sansa put on her best dress for the feast, partially because it was a moment to celebrate, but also because she hoped to draw Sandor’s eye with it. A simple light blue gown with a deep neck that hugged her curves. That would do. Sansa smiled in the mirror as if to reassure herself that everything would be ok. With the Hound one could never be too sure She had given him her favor before he left North, not having the courage then to tell him how she felt. Admittedly she had been afraid he would reject her as a silly girl with her head in the clouds -- so she had given him her handkerchief with little explanation, blushed and retreated into the castle. That had been three years ago, an eternity. She was different now, hardened by war, hunger and fear. Yet part of her yearned to live, to retake some of that childlike innocence and join it with her true desires. 

 

_ ‘Being near him will be a start.’  _ She reminded herself, not wanting to overwhelm him with her feelings. 

 

_ ‘I need to get to know him again anyway. So much time has passed.’  _ She had told herself as she walked into the Great Hall.

 

The hall was booming with laughter, drinking and general happiness. Those who were alive had lost many things, but that gave them all the more reason to celebrate what they did have. Smiling she approached Jon, who was talking to Sandor near the main table. 

 

_ ‘Gods he’s larger than I remember.’  _ She thought to herself as he towered a full head and shoulders over her relative, and he wasn’t even wearing his armor.

 

The scarred side of his face was turned to her, but was not nearly so scary as she had remembered.  _ ‘Silly childhood memories.’ _ She sighed to herself as she came to Jon’s side. 

 

Throwing and unexpectedly coy smile in Sandor’s direction, she turned to Jon. “I expect you two know each other already.” Jon said knowing that she and Sandor had a long history together.

 

She looked at Sandor again and nodded, he too shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he affirmed Jon’s statement. Looking between the two of them, Jon merely grinned.

 

“Kneel my friend.” Jon motioned to Sandor, and the giant of a man did so. 

 

_ ‘Even now he’s chest height to me.’ _ Sansa realized, looking down at the Hound -- making her blush further.

 

“Sandor Clegane would you protect the Warden of the North, Sansa Stark, with you sword, your shield and your body, until you take your last breath?”

 

Sansa’s reddened face only deepened when Jon said ‘body’, Sandor’s was obviously muscled even through his tunic. It would certainly be big enough to shield her own, and much much more.

 

“Aye.” Was his answer as he looked into her eyes. It gave her shivers down her spine. 

 

_ ‘Yes it will be enough for us to share the days together, for now.’  _ Nodding her approval, Sansa motioned he stand.

 

There was an awkward silence before he shifted and left her and Jon standing at the head table. Somehow she knew Jon was up to something, or at the very least knew something she didn’t as the look on his face was a knowing one. Thanking him and brushing off that strange feeling, Sansa sat at the table.

 

Of course she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Sandor throughout dinner, though Sansa did try her best. It was a rarity to see him laugh and carry-on. Surely this was helped along by the fact that he was drinking heavily, but then again he had deserved it. All the while Jon kept throwing her knowing glances, and it was annoying. When she had finally had her fill, and finished dinner, Sansa left the Great Hall under the auspices that she needed some fresh air. In reality she needed to escape Jon’s ever watchful eye, not wanting to let him know her true feelings for his friend, lest he take back the title he had just given Sandor. 

 

The night air was crisp and clean, devoid of death and decay. It was refreshing, a moment to relish, as she had not had many over the last several years. Often when things had looked the bleakest, when she thought they were all going to die, she had thought about Sandor. Not just about him saving her with his sword and his skill, but also just holding her. A shoulder to cry on, a strong chest to fall asleep on, an ample manhood to keep her satisfied. Sansa cracked a smile at the last thought. She was no longer a maid and knew better what she wanted in a man -- and she had had lustful thoughts about her now Sworn Sword. She had realized slowly, as these thoughts had become more prevalent that she did indeed love him. They were so different, polar opposites if truth be told, but she knew deep down in the pit of her stomach that she wanted to be near him for the rest of her days. She just could not be sure he felt the same.

 

_ ‘With time I’ll see.’ _ She promised herself as she walked back toward the castle. Some light laughter and the clinking of  wine bottles caught Sansa’s attention as she made her way back to the castle. 

 

Curious she peered into a small room normally kept for on duty guards in bad weather, and there he was. Her Sworn Sword and some of his men, sitting at a table and talking. A part of her told her it wasn’t correct to join them, but another part -- probably the one that had drank some wine that evening -- told her to join them. So, against her better judgement, she did.

 

At the sight of her entering the doorway Sandor’s men were suddenly flustered, picking up their bottles saying unintelligible things to her and quickly leaving them alone together, in the small, cozy and simple watch room.

 

Surprised at their actions Sansa nearly stuttered, “Oh I...I didn’t mean to…”

 

The Hound’s deep grey eyes met hers, there was a slight surprise in them, as if she had taken him off guard. “Don’t worry about it Little Bird. I’ve seen enough of their cunt faces to last me a lifetime.” He chuckled at this and leaned back in his chair, a bottle of wine in his hand.

 

“Oh.” She said then, her courage suddenly failing her. Sansa had not anticipated having a direct conversation with Sandor and she was at a loss for what to say next.

 

Before she could speak he took a swig of wine, “Don’t tell me I’m already on duty.”

 

Her cheeks reddened at his words, because she had not wanted him to think she was ‘checking up’ on him or expecting something from him tonight in that capacity. She had simply wanted to be near him. Now she’d ruined it. 

 

Trying to salvage what she could she spoke. “I just wanted to...catch up. It’s been so many years…”

 

_ ‘Great work Sansa.’ _ She lamented, _ ‘Now he must really think you are awkward.’ _

 

Exhaling deeply, but no as annoyed as she thought he might be, Sandor patted the spot next to him and took another swig of his wine. As she sat down he handed it to her signaling she should take a sip as well. Sansa did, though she was far too nervous to enjoy the taste.

 

He filled the silence with wine, so she had to start. “Well it’s good to see you in one piece.” She offered uncomfortably.

 

Snorting at her remark, he lowered the bottle and looked her over, a small glint in his eye. “You too.”

 

Realizing she wasn’t going to get more out of him she crossed her hands in her lap unsure of how to progress the conversation further. _ ‘You are terrible at this.’ _ She told herself half in panic.

 

Seemingly not  too worried about the long and rather loud silence between them Sandor shifted in his chair and spoke. “Come on now Little Bird, I can at least walk you to your bedroom. Guess I’ll be spending many a night out side of it anyhow.”

 

“First of all,” She said somewhat perturbed he would call her that name. “I’m a woman grown, no longer a maid or a little bird.” That seemed to get his attention as his eyes flashed to hers, though slower than usual due to his drinking.

 

“Next, I would never allow you sit in that cold hallway. I’d rather you be in my chambers, warm and happy than outside them like an animal.” It was surprising how that came out of her mouth, a bit gruff and lower than usual.

 

Sandor had caught on to it for there was a wry smile on his face. “Did you just proposition me Little Bird?” He was almost teasing her now, something she was not used to but appreciated all the same.

 

Finding some courage and losing her mind she answered, “Perhaps I am Hound.”

 

Before she could blink he had grabbed her and put his lips on hers. In her shock she gripped his arms and pushed into his body, toppling him from his chair and spilling them onto the floor. She landed on top of him luckily, their kiss not interrupted in the least. One of his massive hands came to rest on the small of her back, the other laced its fingers into her hair to keep her lips in close proximity. He tasted like wine and spices as he had much to drink that evening. His tongue not all so big as she might have expected, his lips half rough and half smooth. What caught her by surprise was the agility with which he kissed her -- teasing her tongue, nipping at her lips, moving her head to better accommodate his assault on her mouth. He was gentle with rough fingers and a scratchy beard. It made Sansa moan into his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close to her.

 

_ ‘Gods, is this really happening?’ _ She wondered to herself as they continued kissing one another. They were starved for love, for physical contact -- now they were feasting. There was no turning back, and Sansa had no intention of doing so. Her hands exploring his muscled chest over his tunic, she wondered where the night would take them. In this moment of abandon she prayed to any god that would listen that neither one of them would regret what was almost surely to come.

  
  
  



	2. Throwing Caution to the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A romp in the guardhouse sets the tone of the night's sexual adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we know Sandor found a locket, but what is he trying to remember exactly? Well off to sexual experience number 1 :-p Enjoy...I hope ;-)
> 
> Again ... this is supposed to be a light one, easy and fun.

#  Chapter 2: Throwing Caution to the Wind

 

His head had hit the stone floor so hard, Sansa wasn’t sure if he’d concussed himself, or if he was just too drunk to care. Apparently he didn’t have a head injury for he keep kissing her as if nothing had happened -- and with a semi-sloppy voracity she had never before experienced. It was like he wanted to inhale her entire face, chin and all and was in the process of finding the best way in which to do so. Though he was gentle in his ways, his large hands caressing her, his breaths light across her skin, she could sense the desire there -- an animalistic instinct that was rapidly uncaging itself.  But, not to be outdone, she was hungry too and he was a monster between the legs. It made Sansa lick her lips and excitement. Whatmore it wasn’t the least hampered by alcohol in getting to, and staying at, full attention. Just the mere thought of the size of him made her so wet she was pretty sure she he could already feel her excitement through his leather britches. 

 

She was rubbing herself across him wantonly, like  a cat in heat and he wasn’t complaining at all -- which was a good thing. Sansa had to admit she had been nervous that her extreme desire to have this contact with him might have turned him off to the full experience -- seeing as he was so moody. She hadn’t touched a man in so many years, hadn’t been able to allow herself the pleasures of the flesh while she and those around her were running from the armies of the dead. There was a woman inside her ready to be freed, ready to take what she had wanted for so long. Sansa didn’t want him to think she was desperate, but she was. Desperate for  _ his  _ touch,  _ his  _ lips,  _ his _ love. So she was over the moon at the realization that her adore was spurring him in this tiny little guardhouse not all that far from the festivities. Sure Sansa was concerned that somebody might come into the guardhouse and catch them, but she had been waiting for this so long she didn’t care. She would throw caution to the wind if it meant taking the man she had been thinking of since her time in King’s Landing to bed.

 

When they finally did come up for air, Sansa sat astride his hips, creating a friction between them that had him moaning loud and deep. A naughty grin on her face, she took the liberty of feeling his chest muscles through his tunic.  _ ‘Gods he’s like a war horse in the prime of his life. Strong, sure, endowed.’   _ Not that she’d ever wanted to be intimate with a horse, of course, but she had wanted a big strong man, and Sandor fit the bill in every way she could have imagined.

 

All the sudden he reached up, grabbed her neckline of her dress with both hands and ripped her dress, including her corset form each side. The splitting of the fabric and the popping of her corset strings made her gasp loudly with surprise. The burn on her neck as her locket, which had gotten caught up in the whole passion of the moment, was accidentally ripped from her neck and flew across the floor was sharp. 

 

‘ _ I’ll get it later.’ _ She thought as his rough hands flew to her freshly released tits, massaging them roughly in his hands. She leaned over Sandor to give him better access, her hands on either side of his head. There was no mistaken the pleasurable grin on his face as he watched her breasts mold to his hands both firm and rounded. As he began to suckle on one and pinch the other nipple Sansa was about to die. Her orgasim was building too fast and he wasn’t even inside her yet.

 

_ ‘But I can fix that.’  _ She smiled. 

 

Snaking her hand between them, while still giving him access to her breasts she was happy to feel that his cock had already partially freed itself from it’s leather prison. His engorged head was already popping out of the top of his pants and was lubricated with his own pre-cum. 

 

_ ‘Gods, he wants me just as badly as I want him.’  _ This thought gave her a bit more self confidence as she put her plan into action.

 

Pushing the waist of his pants down as far as she could, Sansa gripped the trunk between his legs, used it to push her underwear aside and guided it towards her steaming wet heat. Of course she knew she was being forward, and  _ very _ unladylike -- but if the war had taught her anything it was to seize the day because you never knew what tomorrow might bring. 

 

She didn’t have to tell him what she needed, he did it without question. With one solid thrust he was inside her, slipping in so deep she had to cover her mouth not to scream. Biting down on her hand she felt him thrusting inside of her, it was a sort of painfully pleasurable bliss. The mixture of his lips on her nipples and his cock inside her would finish her off faster than she had hoped for. He continued to move within her twice, three times and then he arched his back, opened his mouth and let out a long low moan as he pushed his hot seed inside of her. 

 

‘ _ He’s done? _ ’ She looked down at his face to make sure, and there was no denying it. A mixture of surprise, shame and satisfaction filled his features as she looked down at him -- her arms crossed over her chest. There was a disappointment to the whole thing, they had barely even started and it was already over.

 

Cocking her head to the side, Sansa watched him a moment -- made him squirm a bit underneath her as she felt his cock slowly going limp inside of her.  _ ‘I can’t very much blame him can I? He probably hasn’t been with a woman since...well since before he left to war.’ _

 

Bending over her somewhat embarrassed lover Sansa whispered gently in his ear, “If you think I’m going to let you get by with that Clegane, you have another thing coming.” Their cheeks were so close she could feel the side of his lips pull into a smile. “Let’s go to your rooms, quickly.”

 

She stood up from him then, stretching her hand to him and helping him -- albeit with some difficulty -- to his unsteady feet. Eager for another chance to prove himself, he grabbed another bottle of wine and took her by the hand. “Now Sandor, you won’t remember anything if you keep drinking like that.” She scolded him playfully.

 

Snorting at her words he simply motioned she guide him toward his chambers, his large shapely half out of his pants with a lopsided somewhat intoxicated grin on his face.

 

Looking both ways as she  pulled him toward the door of the guardhouse, Sansa couldn’t help but grin. This was turning out to be quite a little adventure.


	3. A Roll in the Hay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tests Sandor's resolve as they are forced to hide out in the stables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to get back to this one and write, hopefully, a chapter or two more. Let's see what time allows.

#  Chapter 3:  A Roll in the Hay

Sansa was as giddy as girl on her Nameday, she didn’t know what to do next or what to expect, just that it was going to be an adventure -- a naughty adventure. Sandor was a bit unsteady on his feet as they snuck around the inner courtyard, Sansa doing her best to ensure they would not be seen. What they were doing was highly unorthodox and whatmore, out of character for a lady of her stature. 

 

She bloody didn’t care. 

 

She wanted him -- she had passed him up once and she wouldn’t do it again. So she pushed on.

 

They crept along the wall of the castle in an attempt to make their way to Sandor’s rooms on the other side. It was literally the farthest door, which made it all the more daunting to sneak there undetected. In addition to that Sandor had put a wine bottle to his lips yet again. 

 

“Stop that.” She whispered harshly, giving him an evil eye. At this rate he wasn’t going to remember a single thing about their evening together,  _ ‘And what a shame that would be.’ _ She smiled.

 

The sound of footsteps heading their way made Sansa freeze, stopping dead in her tracks. She didn’t know what to do, her dress was torn, it was obvious to anybody with two eyes and half a brain what they were up to. Before she could even consider their next move Sandor pulled them into the stables. He was remarkably clear headed considering the amount of drink he had consumed, for that she was somewhat grateful.

 

Either he had the good fortune to pull them into a clean stable or he had looked before he had done it. Sansa wondered this as they pushed their backs against the walls in order to hide. Glancing over to her partner in crime, Sansa noticed he wore a smug grin on his face -- as if he’d done something she should be  _ ‘appreciative _ ’ of. In reality none of his slick little maneuvering would matter, if they got caught. Typically there was no need for guards to make their way through the stables, but if there were odd noises or something that would rouse suspicion that might change. 

 

Sansa smirked in return and Sandor eyed her suspiciously. ‘ _ He really has no idea what I’m about to do, none at all.’  _

 

There was a certain amount power she felt knowing she was about to wipe that smug grin off his face -- and replace it with something all together different. The light was low in the stables, only one lantern was lit, but it would be enough. Sansa dropped to her knees and pulled at his trousers. It wasn't difficult to free his manhood, for the laces were done so sloppily it was a miracle his cock hadn’t escaped beforehand. Before he could understand fully what she was about to do, and before he could stop her Sansa took him in her mouth and began to suck. 

 

She could taste herself still on him, her sweetness mingling well with his musky scent. Sansa’s hand cupped his balls, helping her push his slowly hardening cock deeper into her mouth. The giant warrior groaned, then quickly moved to cover his mouth. His eyes narrowed at her as she watched him bite his hand. Gaining some kind of control he removed his hand from his mouth and brought it down to her head, pulling her loose hair away from her mouth so he could see her better.

 

Sansa smiled, he was squirming delightfully under her ministrations. She had him right where she wanted him. Sandor bucked his hips and in so doing bumped the stall wall. The noise rang through the otherwise quiet place. Sansa couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Did you hear that?” Came a voice from outside the stable. 

 

Some footsteps could be heard. Sansa looked into Sandor’s eyes and smirked evilly. She had stopped moving her head, and began focusing on her tongue only. The head of his cock was huge, filling her mouth completely but also making it easier for her to tease him. There was no doubt where he liked to be touched, she could see it in how his eyes would change their shapes as she flicked the underside of his head reather pointedly. He was trying to calm his breathing, but her tongue would not allow it. Whimpering he brought his other hand to his mouth trying hard not to give in, not to give their position away.

 

“Where did it come from?” Came another voice.

 

Sansa had never felt so exhilarated in her life. The thought of being caught with Sandor’s manhood halfway down her throat was both scandalazing and sexy all at once. She was poking the beast, no doubt about that -- but if he didn’t do something soon, they would both be caught. Even in his own drunken stupor her, now Sworn Sword, seemed to have her honor on his mind for he shook his head, a small prayer or a curse -- she couldn’t be too sure -- crossed his lips before he hit the stable wall he was against hard with his fist. 

 

In that moment Stranger began to rear and buck fiercely in his stall, which happened to be right next to where they were.  _ ‘Lucky.’ _ She smiled at him only to continue to suck his length relentlessly. 

 

“It’s just Clegane’s bloody horse.” Came the first voice.

 

The second voice concurred, “That’s not a horse it's a goddamn bear.”

 

The two could be heard walking away even through the noise that Stranger was still kicking up. Once he was sure they were out of ear shot, Sandor wasted no time pulling her away from his cock, gripping his base in hand and removing it from her hungry lips.

 

“You want me to bloody spill down your throat?” The way he asked the question Sansa wasn’t sure if that would be a real turn on for him, or if he was concerned to disappoint her one more time. 

 

She didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. Instead she allowed him to take her by the hand and press her up against the other side of the stall, where Stranger wasn’t kicking the walls. Sandor stared down at her a moment, his height allowing him a good look at both her face and cleavage that was showing from the ripped part of her dress. Then his eyes moved to something above her, and Sansa’s gaze followed his. There was a metal bar hanging just above his head height, something she was pretty sure they used to tie a horse to when they shoed it. A grin spread across his face before he grabbed Sansa by the waist and lifted her up high enough so she could grab on to the bar. 

 

Then, in his usual way, without asking or indicating anything, he reached under her skirts and pulled off her underwear -- discarding them somewhere on the floor. His fingers rubbed between her legs briefly and he smiled again, clearly happy with what he found there. Sandor then lifted her skirts, making sure they were running over the sides of her body and brought her legs to wrap around his waist. Sansa’s back was flat against the wall of the stall, her arms above her while she adjusted her grip on this bar above them. She could felt him lining his cock up at her entrance his hips moving in circles a bit just to tease her a little. Pressing his lips hard against her own, he plunged deep inside her in one hard thrust. Her lips broke from his as she squealed in utter delight. Sandor felt amazing between her legs, they way she had always hoped he would. Big, strong and filling -- all of the things she had hoped for in her lonely nights during the great war. And now here they were, his lips on her neck, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist, her core needing him more than it had ever wanted anything before.

 

She was using her arms to adjust to his firm pace -- it felt amazing. Sansa could see his eyes fixated on her breasts, watching them move and giggle in response to the contact he made with her hips. Suddenly she could feel her end was near. “Oh Sandor, Sandor….ohhhhhh!” 

 

Their barn activities had agitated the horses to the point where Sansa was fairly sure nobody could hear her literally screaming his name out for the whole castle to hear. Granted you could never hear yourself as well as others could, but Sandor seemed to not be too concerned as he pressed her hips down firmly onto his own and spilled his seed inside of her.

 

At that point she should have known something was off for he teetered a bit and they both went falling to the ground in the hay. Sansa layed there a moment and just took it in, trying to push the fact that he was so drunk he’d just lost his balance standing. 

 

_ ‘At the very least he has impeccable timing.’ _ She teased to herself.  _ ‘And at least he’s still alive.’ _

 

Considering how much he had drank she was surprised he could have an erection much less breath. Sansa looked over at her partner laying beside her on the hay. His breathing was steady but he wasn’t asleep. 

 

_ ‘If he falls asleep I’ll never move him.’ _ She realized.

 

“Come on.” She said, rolling over on top of him and pulling up his trousers. “We still have to make it to your rooms. I’m not done with you yet.” She added quickly. It was true she wasn’t, but it wasn’t lost on Sansa that she would need to motivate this drunken lug of a man to stand with a promise of much much more.

Not arguing at all with her, which was odd for Clegane for sure, he slowly picked himself off the floor and took her by the hand. Feeling light on her feet, Sansa smiled knowing their night was far from over.

 


	4. Near Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor think fast, hiding in an attic atop the battlements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surly working my way through this ;-)

#  Chapter 4:  Near Discovery

 

There was no real reason to tiptoe through the courtyard at this stage, the party in the Great Hall had only become louder and more drunken as time went on. But somehow Sansa felt they were sneakier that way, if they tried to be as quiet as possible. Coming out of the stalls and snaking around the building, Sansa could see the tower which lead to Clegane’s rooms. It was still not as close as she would have liked it, but if they were fast about it they might just be able to run there quickly. Looking over her shoulder toward Sandor, Sansa was not confident in what she saw. Her big strong stallion of a man was leaning up against the wall of the stable house, a hand on his head that indicated the world might be slightly spinning. 

 

_ ‘For the love of the Seven!’  _ She could have screamed, but didn’t, keeping this sentiment to herself. 

 

So running across the seemingly empty courtyard wasn’t an option in his condition, that much was clear. ‘ _ We’ll need to take the long way, walk the castle walls and just hope we make it to the other side without anyone seeing us.’ _

 

There were still guards on duty, the castle had not been left without some kind of force protecting it. Sansa knew they would have to be careful if they made their way along the battlements tonight, even if there was only a skeleton crew due to the night’s festivities. Eyeing the stone steps to the battlements, Sansa turned back to Sandor -- still leaning against the wall. 

 

“You ok?” She whispered, putting a hand on the side of his face so he would look at her. 

 

Instead of answering he merely pulled her close and kissed her sloppily, a slight bulge forming in his pants. 

 

_ ‘At least the alcohol seems not to have drowned out his baser instincts.’  _ Sansa smiled to herself, enjoying the warrior’s hands on her body, and the passion with which he kissed her. 

 

After all these years of war she had wanted nothing more than to tell Sandor how she felt about him. Now it seemed everything was happening at once, albeit not the way she had envisioned. 

 

_ ‘I at least hope he knows its me.’  _ She chuckled to herself. 

 

“Come on.” She said once their kiss had ended. Sansa grabbed his big hand and lead the half aroused, stumbling man toward the stone steps leading up to the battlements. 

 

Reaching the top Sansa looked left and right, seeing the torches lit but the guards not currently at their stations. Normally she wouldn’t feel very relieved at this revelation, but in this moment it was a good thing. Leading Sandor quietly atop the walls of the battlements, they reached their first guardhouse and peeked inside. Seeing nobody, Sansa tugged Sandor inside and took a breath of relief. 

 

Not more than a few seconds later she heard some chatting, two of the guards were talking and not all that far from the guard house. There were door frames on either side of the house so that the guards had a clear view through the structure and to the lengths of wall stretching around the castle. If the guards turned at the wrong moment, they might just spot them walking along the castle walls. Seized with fear, Sansa wasn’t sure what to do. To go back down the stairs was a gamble, to press on to where the guards were even more so -- and the voices were only getting louder as the men walked back to the guardhouse. 

 

Sansa had to stop herself from gasping too loudly as she was picked up and thrown over Sandor’s huge shoulder. 

 

“What are you doing?” She whispered angrily as he turned to a small ladder and began climbing it. 

 

Gripping his tunic and back in panic, Sansa did her best to not move, given her companion was already not so stable on his feet. 

 

“What was that?” She heard one of the guards say, just as they had made their way into the little storage attic above the guard’s room. 

 

Surely they would now be inspecting the room right below where she and Sandor were, if they were bright they might even come up the ladder. But this seemed to not concern the Hound in the least, for he pulled her once again to his chest and began to kiss her. Throwing her arms around his neck Sansa slowly gave into his charmingly drunken advances. Hoisting herself so as to place her legs around his waist was perhaps not such a good idea, for he stumbled backwards knocking some weapons to the ground with a large clatter. 

 

_ ‘Now for sure they will come up here.’ _ Sansa thought with a fright. 

 

Without saying a word, and nearly without her leave, Sandor brought her to the floor of the dusty attic with him. Turning her around on all fours, he lifted her dress unceremoniously over her head and slid his hardened member inside of her.

 

“Ohhhhhh!” She moaned more deeply and loudly than she had wanted. 

 

His hands firmly on both sides of her hips he brought her back to him, their knees now touching as he rolled his hips toward her own. It had been unthinkable to Sansa that he could penetrate her deeper than he already had, for when she had ridden him earlier in the night she had felt him push far beyond where any other man had. But now, in this position, he filled her even more -- and it drove her wild. 

 

Wetness ran unapologetically down from between her legs and over the length of his huge cock. Picking up on her full arousal, the Hound bent over her, putting on hand on her shoulder and began to pound Sansa hard from behind. She was screaming bloody murder now, not caring if they were to be discovered by these guards -- just wanting to feel her partner pushing ever more deeply within her. 

 

She was straining under his strength and weight, pressing her hands into the dusty floor and exposing her bum and pussy to his continued penetrations. Sansa was sore of course, having had him now for the third time this night -- and that was half the fun. They had fought the white walkers for so long and given so much, that she needed a night like this more than anybody could know. She needed to appeal to her baser nature, feel a slave to her inner most desires. Sansa needed Sandor. She realized that now more than ever how much she had wanted him inside of her and how far she was willing to go to have him for herself. 

 

He was fucking her mercilessly now, his own grunting mixed with her cries of excitement could only lead to more confusion for the men below -- if they were even still there. Sansa hadn’t heard anything for a while now, and honestly didn’t care at all. When she shuddered around him, feeling her body release all of this pent up frustration that had been building, Sansa knew she had found the man she wanted to be with. Even if he had the habit of drinking in excess. She felt him release his seed in her yet again, and wondered if he felt the same. 

 

_ ‘Perhaps he’s just too intoxicated to be careful.’ _ Sansa wondered, hoping that was not the case. 

 

She was the Lady of Winterfell and would be the Wardeness of the North, she could raise a fatherless child if need be. But she pushed this from her mind, now was not the time to dwell on such things. Kissing her on the back of her neck and shoulder, Sansa could hear Sandor’s labored breathing. He was warm and affectionate, and though his eyes were still glossy she could swear she saw a slight spark in them.

 

Poking his head slowly through the floor and into the guard’s house below, Sandor came back up with a grin. “Let’s make ourselves scarce.” He said, motioning she take the ladder first. Barely able to overcome the flush in her body and the languidness of her limbs, Sansa slowly lowered herself back down the ladder where she and Sandor had come from. Grabbing her by the hand, he swiftly made for the stairs at the far end of the battlements. 


	5. An Accidental Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you make love in the godswood, doesn't mean other people aren't watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to get this one out. I was feeling so inspired!

#  Chapter 5:  An Accidental Audience

 

They were within sight of the tower where Sandor had his simple quarters. Having slinked around the battlements, kept to the shadows on the walls that surrounded the northern holdfast of Winterfell, they were literally there -- when he suddenly pulled her off course. Sansa could not have said what he was doing or why he was doing it, only that Sandor lead her by the hand through a small passage way. Knowing all too well where this would lead them, Sansa had to admit she was perplexed by this turn of events.

 

_ ‘Why here?’ _ She wondered to herself, keeping  one hand on the top of her torn dress, not wanting to expose her body to anyone other than her stamina filled lover.

 

As they entered the godswood, Sansa couldn’t help but smile. It was a beautiful place -- even through the war and the overrunning of Winterfell by the army of the dead -- the godswood had maintained its serenity. The great heart tree, the pond, even grass in this early spring time -- the godswood was always magical, always beautiful.

 

_ ‘Does he want to take me somewhere beautiful? Something that isn’t the floor of a hut or his humble soldier's quarters?’  _ Sansa wondered this as she followed him to the great heart tree. 

 

The fire flies had begun to come out, slowly but surely. A few weak but eager lights visible in the dark serenity of this sacred place. Sansa looked up at her lover expectantly, not sure what he had in store for her. His eyes had begun to lose their glossiness, he was more present now than he had been when they had first started their evening.

 

“Sansa I…” He began, somewhat unsure of himself and what he would say. She could see his mouth was trying to form words, but not being very successful at it.

 

She was patient with him, not wanting him to feel bad that he had drank so much. _ ‘He will have to learn his lesson though.’ _ She grinned to herself,  _ ‘As I’m sure he won’t remember this night as he truly should.’ _

 

After swaying a bit, Sandor tried again. “There’s so much a man could tell you, I…”

 

Sansa kissed Sandor then, wrapped her arms around his neck and made sure she showed him how she felt about him. He was not a man of many words, especially in this state, and it felt good that he would try to tell her about his feelings. But showing them was even better.

 

The taste of his lips were amazing. Perhaps they were sweetened from all the Dornish red he had consumed that night, but it mattered little to Sansa. She loved the softness of them on hers mixed with the slight roughness of where he had been burned. It made it all the more fun to explore his lips with her own, kissing, nipping and pulling on them. Sandor’s beard rubbed against her cheek and she relished it’s unkempt roughness. It was very much him, and she loved Sandor’s roguish ways.

 

When their kiss finally broke, his grey eyes were staring at her intently. They never left her as as maneuvered his tunic over his arms and off of his body. 

 

“Gods be good.” She found herself saying out loud at his amazing physique. 

 

Perhaps Sansa had long come to peace with the fact that the only available men in Westeros after war were going to be old sickly men or ones too young to inspire lust. She had always known Sandor was a strong man, fitter than most and certainly more deadly. But her eyes had not been prepared for what came before them. The moonlight caught his mighty torso such that she could see its definition even more clearly than she might have in the day. Sandor was big and broad, his chest and shoulders rounded with muscles only obtained through hard work and killing. An even layer of hair covered his chest, and she reached out to touch it -- feeling a growl of acceptance from him as her finger tips explored his curly softness. Sansa’s other hand came to his abs, enjoying the feeling of the washboard ripple they had. His stomach also had a very enticing trail of dark hard disappearing into his trousers where she knew his incredibly well endowed manhood lay. Her hand did not have the chance to make it to the top of his trousers before Sandor dragged her gently on the grass where he had lay his tunic out. 

 

The only thing Sansa could think in this moment was how thoughtful it was that he wouldn’t want her dress to get dirty, or her back to get wet from the dew that had surely formed on this blades of grass by this point in the night. They both made quick work of her dress, only a light shift covering her -- her underwear long ago discarded.

 

“You’re cold.” He breathed, noticing the goosebumps forming on her skin. 

 

Laying on their sides the two embraced one another, enjoying the fine art of kissing. There was no further cold Sansa could feel on her skin pressed against the mighty warrior as she was. He was warm, his body firm and his kisses gentle. She felt safe for the first time in a long time, felt free for the first time ever. While the army of the dead had wreaked havoc on Westeros, it had also destroyed the old ways of their society. There were no longer such stiff rules about marriage or courtship. Most of the nobility had been lost, and family fortunes either taken or destroyed. They had been amongst the lucky ones -- lucky to be alive and lucky to have taken their lands back. 

 

Now Sansa only wanted to look to the future. To copulate under the great heart tree was to ask for a blessed union, to ask the old gods for his seed to quicken in her womb. Though Sandor was surely ignorant of such old northern practices, Sansa hoped even if somewhat selfishly, that he would sire this night. There would be nothing more glorious than having a child to look forward to. A promise of what will be instead of sitting there wondering about could have been. She would not hold him to this marriage, for he was not of the north -- but she hoped he would consent in time. 

 

“I love you.” She whispered, unsure if he heard her or not. If he had, Sandor had not made any sound or movement to indicate it. 

His lips were busy on her neck, kissing every part of her over her shoulder, down to her breast. Sansa could not see his eyes, for the light of the moon was far to bright and he was atop her, but she could feel his body shuddering  like a man in love. His breaths deep, his hands nervous not to make any errors, his desire to lay with her as a husband does a wife, not a man a whore was clear to her. Even if it might not have been to him.

 

_ ‘He’ll have one very large headache tomorrow. And a very sore cock.’  _ She smiled, feeling his aroused manhood rub her woman’s place. It took her little time to produce the wetness he required, he had been all she could think about these dark winter days, all she had ever dreamed about -- her body had been ready for him far before her mind had been. 

 

Marveling at his virility, Sansa spread her legs in invitation for him to take her. She wanted nothing more than to be one with him, to feel him within her depths, enjoying their pleasure together.

 

“Make me yours.” Sansa said to him simply, holding his face in her hand. 

 

Kissing the palm of her hand Sandor pushed inside of her again. She was surprised she wasn’t completely sore by this point, given how vigorous they had coupled over the last hours. But the size and shape of him was perfect for her, leaving no empty space within her but not over stretching her to the point of pain. The gods knew by now how much she had desired him, her body had merely done the rest.

 

Hugging one another tightly they worked both for and against one another, Sansa feeling the long steady strokes of his manhood inside of her, enjoying the feeling of him from his base to his rather large tip then making sure their bodies met again. Their hips slapping against one another’s in a lovers dance she had wanted for so very long. Perhaps he had wanted this as well, for Sandor had not stopped kissing her since they entered the godswood, his mouth exploring every inch of her as if to say he wanted to love every part of her now and in this moment.

 

Without warning he rolled so she was atop him, his big palm resting on her chest making sure she sat upright astride him. 

 

“Oh gods!” She found herself moaning, feeling the full length and girth of him within her. 

Instinctually Sansa made to grip his chest hair, threading her fingers within it. Then she began to move atop Sandor, moving her hips so as to bring her to her own completion. It was what he wanted, she could tell in the way his face contorted in pleasure while he watched her. She had often rode horses in the northern fashion, her fingers threaded in their mane her thighs gripping tightly so as not to fall off. This was no different, save she was riding a man and not a beast. Though, the way they had been rutting around the castle, she wasn’t sure they both weren’t some kind of wild animal. 

 

Sandor’s large hands cupped her ass aiding her in her movements when she needed a break but didn’t want to stop moving. Rolling her hips Sansa played atop his hardness, using different strokes, paces and depths. She couldn’t say which she liked better, for everything felt good -- every inch of his body was made for her. Sansa’s release swirled around her -- the lights of the fireflies, the darkness of the sacred wood, the warmth of Sandor’s body. When she closed her eyes and found her pleasure, moaning loudly and fully she could only see light. The feeling of an utter soft sweet release was like a small prayer to the gods of the north, and she knew they would be pleased with them.

 

“Again.” Sandor muttered, gently coaxing her to move with the upward movement of his hips. 

 

Flashing him a look that indicated he surely thought she was crazy, Sandor grinned as if he knew something she did not, and continued the gentle rolling of his hips. Sansa smiled down at him, her lover, protector and now hopefully her man as well. Licking his fingers he brought them to her woman’s place, right above where he was entering her and began to apply pressure to the most sensitive spot on her body. His large calloused thumb moved with surprising accuracy and ease given his drunken condition. It was amazing.

 

“Sandor, oh...yes more! More!” She had begun to move again, her eyes slightly closed so as to better feel everything that she could. His hand, his manhood, his hard body beneath hers -- she couldn’t have been happier in this moment. 

 

Before the gods or anyone else who might see, _ ‘I care little if we are discovered.’ _ She found herself thinking as her lover made quick work of her.

 

When she finally did come out of the haze of her orgasm, she was on her back on Sandor’s tunic his warm body atop her. 

 

“My little bird.” He whispered, moving within her. 

 

It was his turn now and Sansa eagerly nipped at his jawline and ear. It was the scared side of his face that was closest to her, and she could not know if he felt her love play. She hoped he did, for her hot breath warmed the side of his face as his motions become quicker and more fulfilling. Sansa gripped his steel body with all that she had, not wanting to ever let him go again. They had seen enough death to last a lifetime, now they should do other things. Like love, rebuild and find happiness. 

 

Sansa enjoyed the feeling of him finding his own pleasure, happy she please a man such as him. If the gods smiled upon them, then his seed would find its way. He kept himself inside of her a while longer, as if he knew that to do so would be to do his best to ensure a child. Their lips met again, kissing and feeling out one another as they had started. They kissed until she could feel his penis grow limp inside of her, the quivering of her own body gently pushing him from her.

 

“Little bird.” He said again, nuzzling her affectionately.

 

They lay there a long moment and Sansa wondered if they shouldn’t just fall asleep there. The morning was nah and there seemed little point in hiding their affair now. Perhaps he would even find his strength for a fifth time that night and they could do this all over again.

 

But then she got this overwhelmingly strange feeling in her gut. “Bran!” She sat up from their cozy spot on the grass and looked at the old heart tree. Sansa was not ashamed that he would know, but a flush came to her body at the realization that he would have seen everything that transpired. And everything that would transpire if they stayed there. She would like their most initmate moments to stay private. It was too late to keep these moments to herself and tell her family when they were ready, Bran did not keep such information to himself. But she could stop him from watching them snuggle together.

 

“Come Sandor, we should find a proper bed.” Sansa said, almost laughing that gasping her brother’s name hadn’t registered on Sandor’s face. 

 

Hurriedly she grasped her dress, straightened her shift and pulled Sandor toward the exit of the godswood. Never looking back, but mumbling loud enough for her younger brother to hear, “If you tell Jon, I swear . . .” 


	6. His Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night of fun, Sansa is happy to have a soft, quiet place to snuggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I kick myself for making this chapter short -- there's something about the simplicity of writing this story in one shot that I like. This just fit for me, though it could have been naughtier, more descriptive or with more action. Sometimes we just need to be easy on ourselves as writers and not pain too much over a text. This story has been a lot about that for me. Enjoy!

#  Chapter 6: His Bed

 

Breathing a sigh of relief as she bolted the door behind them, Sansa couldn’t have been more pleased to be in Sandor’s tiny room. The large window made it cold there, and there was no fireplace -- for the room had been a mere storage area for the kitchens before it was converted. But it was comfortable, cozy with a large feather bed, an overstuffed chair, a simple side table and a place for Sandor’s armor. Her partner-in-crime lit the few small candles in the room and it gave the bedroom a romantic and warm glow. Smiling, Sansa dropped her dress on the chair and peered out the window into the courtyard. The moon was full that night, though still cold in -- it was the first night she had seen the fireflies, which meant spring was coming. 

 

There was some splashing and Sansa knew Sandor was refreshing himself with some water from his small basin.  _ ‘He’s probably trying to sober up a bit.’  _

 

She was amused by his antics this evening. For as much as the man had consumed he had been ready to do his duty more than most sober men would have been capable of. But every now and then he would get this kind of glossy look in his eye that remained Sansa that the alcohol had kicked back in. She was not angry with him, he had every right to enjoy this night -- him more than most. Sansa did, however, also desperately want him to remember their passion for it was the most truthful and heartfelt expression of it she could find. 

 

_ ‘It was fun too.’  _ She smirked. Sansa didn’t expect her Sworn Sword to have anything left in him, for she herself was already feeling a satisfying soreness between her legs. She was content to lay with him in his bed, tucked away from everybody, warm and safe as she had always dreamed.

 

Warm arms moved to embrace her and Sansa felt the naked body of a man press up against hers. Sandor’s hands were quickly under her shift, tracing circles and lines across her breasts and chest. They both chuckled, his lips pressing warm soft kisses on her cheek, neck and shoulder. Never in her wildest dreams could Sansa have imagined he could be so soft and gentle, particularly given his chosen profession. Nevertheless he was, and she sincerely hoped it was not alcohol induced. 

 

Sansa nuzzled Sandor’s face and beard, her hands coming behind her to his hips and rubbing them warm. Not that they needed to be, but she wanted to touch him, show him she could be affectionate too. Though it seemed that her small gesture had enticed him a little further, for a soft growl came to her ear and his hips bucked against her backside. Sansa could feel his healthy erection straining against her bum. 

 

“I don’t believe it.” She muttered so that he could hear her. 

 

Sandor snorted then pressed himself harder against her, Sansa could feel his steel hard cock begging to be buried inside of her. “I might never get to do this again. So I gotta make the most of it.” He whispered, the first real words he had said all night.

 

Egging him on, Sansa rubbed her bum up and down his stiff manhood -- feeling the man behind her tense and slacken with enjoyment as she did so. Placing her roughly closer to the glass, Sandor took only a moment to adjust himself behind her before slowly and steadily entering her. At this point he didn’t need to check if she was wet for him, she was full of arousal and his own seed -- there was no way she couldn’t have taken him again. And by the gods, she wanted to.

 

He pressed her tight against the glass, the side of her cheek and her breasts pushing into the cold, see through surface. Her body was burning up from the heat Sandor was giving off and the arousal she felt, so the glass was a welcoming feeling. When he bottomed out Sansa lifted up on her toes, only barely able to take him fully. A feral growl escaped Sandor’s throat and a large hand patted her hip affectionately, then he pushed even deeper -- Sansa gasped not able to escape him.

 

Her reaction seemed to encourage him further, “Fuck yes.” He muttered, his hips slapping against her bum with authority. HIs motions were practiced and pointed, the enormous tip of his penis hitting her cervix with such force -- that Sansa moaned with every loving strike. 

 

“Ohhhh, mmmmmm!” Sansa couldn’t form proper words. The hot breath from her moaning was fogging up the glass as her stiffened nipples pressed even more flush with the glass. 

 

She never wanted him to let her go. Sansa had lost him twice and she never, ever wanted to do it again. Feeling a light pop on the bum she let out a slight giggle and he only penetrated her further. There was no denying that she was so much happier now than she had been in a long time. Even before the war, or before her escape from King’s Landing -- it was hard for Sansa to remember a time that she had been so truly happy as she was now. 

 

Flinching slightly at a soreness that wouldn’t go away, Sansa wanted him to go on despite it. Her legs ached, her insides were both pleased and slowly finding their end. She knew it, but at the same time, she didn’t want the night to end. But it was too late, he had noticed the slight catch of her breath, and the jerk of her body and recognized it as pain. Immediately Sandor withdrew, turning her so her back was against the glass and knelt down to soothe her slit with his mouth. It was warm, his tongue thick with saliva and it calmed the growing irritation that came with as much intercourse as she had enjoyed that evening. Slipping his tongue in front of her body, he began to play with her most sensitive spot. Flicking the warm soft muscle over and over in the same spot. As aroused as she was Sansa didn’t take long to curl her fingers into his hair and gasp her final pleasure. She was exhausted, her body had begun to ache from exertion, her legs weak from her orgasim. 

 

Her partner wasted no time in scooping her up and bringing her into his bed. She had seen to it he got a feather one, though he had not wished it. Sansa couldn’t have been more happy she had done so. The softness of the bed mixed with the hardness of his body tight against her were the perfect combination. He had brought her in flush with him, thrown a cover over them both and before Sansa could even ask about how he would like to take his pleasure she heard the soft evenness of his breathing. 

 

_ ‘The mighty warrior at rest.’  _ She smiled to herself, kissing his forearm while he spooned her. 

 

It was good to know he was as tired as she was, a relief that the giant of a man was somehow human too. Though the more she tried, the harder it was to go to sleep. So Sansa felt herself laying there, pondering what to do next. 


	7. A Late Night Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa makes a wager of a different kind with Sandor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very quick ending to what we knew set the whole story into motion. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading these two stories. I'm so happy to have finished them and that they brought so much fun and joy to others.

#  Chapter 7:  A Late Night Wager

 

Sandor’s soft snoring abruptly ended and he jerked himself awake. Sansa reached out tentatively to sooth him with her fingertips on his shoulder. She didn’t know how he would react, assuming he was not used to sharing his bed with another. Her lover’s muscles tensed under her gentle touch, then relaxed. Taking this as an invitation to snuggle up closer, Sansa wrapped her arms around Sandor from behind, pressing her cheek into the bulging muscles of his upper back.

 

A light purring type growl emanated from his huge chest cavity.

 

“It’s me.” Sansa whispered, hoping he would turn around and capture her in his strong arms again.

 

All she got was a series of murmurs and snorts, making her wonder if the alcohol had taken him over in his slumber, working its way out of his system more slowly than she would have liked. Sansa rolled her eyes, though there was nothing that could be done about it. He had chosen this path long before they had started their sexual adventure this evening, so all she could do was ride it out.

 

That, of course, didn’t mean she couldn’t teas him a bit, test his soberness. “You’ll never remember this night Sandor, I can already tell.”

 

Her challenge paid off, for he shifted his weight, turning to face her. They were almost nose to nose in the darkness, but she could see parts of his face due to the thin streams of light coming into the room from his nearly covered window. Not sure if he was considering something or falling asleep again, Sansa kissed him on the nose — a teasing look in her eye.

 

“Woman, I’ll never forget this night because it probably won’t ever happen again.” He managed to say in his half sober sleep.

 

Moving to straddle him, Sansa traced her fingers over his thick chest hair. It was hard to imagine a mortal man could possess such power and strength. While she had enjoyed, even benefitted, from his excellent strength and stamina -- she had not had the opportunity to admire Sandor properly until now. He was truly an amazing creature, he had more than proved that this evening. Sansa loved his body, the soft rounded edges of his bulging muscles firm to the touch. Sansa loved his passion, the feeling of being the singular focus of his admiration and attention brought a sense of power and sensuality with it that she had never experienced before. Sansa also loved his virility, there was something raw and deep-seated about the desire to have a well endowed male partner with an ample amount of seed. The gods knew by now that she was filled beyond her capacity with his seed, and hopefully also his sire. Sansa had known from the moment they had kissed, that she wanted him forever. 

 

Smiling as sweetly as she possibly could, Sansa put her plan into action. “How about we make a wager then?”

 

Sandor snorted at her offer.

 

“Oh come on. My big strong warrior won’t make a simple bet with me?” Sansa kissed him down his chest, doing her best to entice him to play along. 

 

This seemed to work, for he ran his hand through her hair and made her look at him by tipping Sansa’s chin toward him. “I’m listening.”

 

“If I win, then I’ll clear my schedule and you can have me like this all you want.” She smiled and walked her fingers up his chest. “But if you win,” she grinned and leaned over to kiss his neck and cheek. “I promise to be yours forever.” Her words were but a whisper, low in the quiet of the late night.

 

When she raised up from her position near his neck, Sansa looked down upon the man she had missed so much all these years. He wore a sly grin on his face, as if he understood, before his eyes glassed over again and he fell asleep. 

 

She chuckled looking down at him. Sandor was so peaceful like this, and Sansa found a great beauty to him in his dreamless sleep. Brushing away some of his loose hairs from his face, she kissed him again. Snuggling back down into the bed, Sansa pulled the covers to her shoulders. There was no doubting Sandor Clegane was a lucky man, for he had just entered into a bet where he could not loose. Whether he knew it or not, when the morning would finally come he would win far much more than he could have ever imagined.


End file.
